watership-down-netflix Review

Survival of the fittest.

By Laura Prudom

This is a spoiler-free review of the new Watership Down miniseries, which premiered on BBC One in the UK and Netflix internationally.

For a generation of adults, Watership Down is probably synonymous with childhood trauma, thanks to Richard Adams' beloved (but occasionally brutal) 1972 novel, and the downright barbaric 1978 film adaptation.

The 2018 remake, directed by Noam Murro (300: Rise of an Empire) and written by Tom Bidwell (My Mad Fat Diary), thankfully omits a lot of the bloodshed that made the movie so nightmare-inducing, without softening the inherent darkness of Adams' epic rabbit tale. The plot follows a plucky group of bucks who choose to leave their warren after one of them has a horrifying premonition about the destruction of their home - seeking out a new sanctuary many miles away.

There's still danger, death, and a bizarre bunny gulag (presided over by a fittingly intimidating Ben Kingsley), but the miniseries opts to cut away from much of the violence, leaving the worst of the cruelty implicit and relying on the audience's imagination to fill in the blanks. The series probably isn't any more suitable for young children than Adams' heady book would be, and there are certainly moments of high anxiety (including a stressful scene involving a farmer's snare), but the new iteration shouldn't leave any lasting mental scars on viewers the way the original did.

Adams' powerful narrative still shines through, although Bidwell's script meanders a little unnecessarily - especially in the third and fourth episodes after an autocratic rival warren is introduced, when the gloom almost becomes suffocating - and the messages about the destructive nature of man are delivered with all the subtlety of an anvil. But the first episode, in particular, is a study in tension-building, expertly playing with viewers' expectations based on our memories of the original film and imbuing the rabbits' adventure with a gripping sense of foreboding. As with the novel, the miniseries is a rallying cry against the dangers of totalitarianism and groupthink as the rabbits encounter various, insidious forms of oppression - some obvious and some far more subtle - that are allegorical enough for kids but should also strike a chord with adults.

The adaptation has assembled an all-star cast, including James McAvoy as reluctant leader Hazel; Nicholas Hoult as his little brother, Fiver; John Boyega as hotheaded Bigwig; and a lively Peter Capaldi as scene-stealing seagull Kehaar; but despite a number of other recognizable names, the rest of the male rabbits are more or less interchangeable, between the murkiness of the animation and the vocal similarities of many of the actors (if you can tell Dandelion from Blackberry, you're doing better than me).

Still, McAvoy and Boyega make compelling anchors for the action; the appeal of Hazel as a protagonist has always been that he's not a particularly remarkable rabbit - neither the strongest, bravest, nor fastest - but he's loyal and puts the safety of his comrades above his own aspirations. Bigwig, meanwhile, is brash and confrontational, challenging Hazel at every turn, but his evolution is arguably more satisfying as he's forced to subvert his aggressive instincts to survive. Even if it's often hard to tell the bunnies apart, the camaraderie and banter between them makes the story instantly engaging - they're put through the wringer (along with the audience) over the course of these four episodes, and by the end of their journey, the catharsis is surprisingly potent once it becomes clear that they truly have become a family, bonded like soldiers in a foxhole (no pun intended). The show also gives viewers respite with a few comedic flourishes - Capaldi, as usual, is a joy - lest we think that all hope is lost as the rabbits make their long hop towards a better, more democratic life together.

The real shortcoming of this adaptation - especially compared to the vividness of the original film - is in the animation. Aside from the fact that the animators seem to think that rabbits are interchangeable with hares (the size of those ears!), there are moments when the rendering appears jerky and unnatural, and the lighting is often so dark (especially in two of the most pivotal fight scenes) it's impossible to tell which character is which. This is especially disappointing considering the level of detail applied in other areas; the dampness of the rabbits' fur after a rainstorm seems almost photo-realistic, and the backgrounds come alive with lush grass and dreamy, cloud-filled skies, which makes the awkwardness of the characters' faces and movements all the more noticeable. Even allowing for the fact that CGI animation is cheaper and faster than hand-drawn art or stop-motion, audiences now expect a level of sophistication in their animation that surpasses that of a PS2 cutscene, especially with the deep pockets of Netflix and the BBC funding the project, and it's disappointing that the visuals can't match the ambition of the story.

The Verdict

What Watership Down lacks in aesthetics, it makes up for in the clarity of its story, which sticks fairly closely to Adams' vision (albeit with more nuance and depth added to the female characters, who were little more than objects in the original) since it has the benefit of being stretched over four hours instead of limited to a feature-length format. You can't really go wrong with the setup Adams established in the novel, which expertly balances drama, adventure, and peril within an epic, mythological framework, resulting in a tale that's both timeless and still searingly prescient - if not always pretty to look at.